


Shea Butter Baby

by Wicked_Wayward_Warrior



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Black Character(s), Bobby SInger - Freeform, Consent, Dean Winchester Angst, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Finger Sucking, Massage, Oral Sex, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Limited, Penis In Vagina Sex, Season/Series 06, Sex, Smut, Soft Dean Winchester, Soulless Sam Winchester, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Witchcraft, Witches, castiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior/pseuds/Wicked_Wayward_Warrior
Summary: Dean reaches out to an old girlfriend, Jazzy, to help with Sam’s hell-wall. Their reunion is awkward to say the least. Despite their best efforts, they are unable to manage their suppressed emotions in a chilly motel room on the road to Bobby’s. Emotions run rampant and desires get acted upon.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	Shea Butter Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Jazzy is my GIRL! For some background, she’s a witch and she loves her some Dean Winchester. She breaks up with him after Sam returns in Season 6 after the two took a year off from hunting to be normal. Dean thinks she can help with Death’s hell-wall and seeks out her help, which is why they’re in a motel room on their way to Bobby’s place. Sam, Cas, Bobby are all mentioned.

Braids fell around her shoulders as she slipped her shower cap from her head. The warmth of the shower was therapeutic but nothing compared to the robe her cousin gifted her. Dressed in nothing but her bra and panties, she pulled her robe around her body, tightening the knot around her waist. Wrapped in cotton velour, Jazzy grabbed her toiletry bag off the bathroom counter and left the steamy bathroom for the motel room she shared with Dean.   
  
The chill of air raised goosebumps on her arms as her body adjusted to the shift in the atmosphere. Dean always preferred it when it was cold. She always thought it was a white boy thing since he wasn't particularly thick-skinned, but when she was with him, she got used to it being cold all the time. It made the nights where she was tucked under his arms, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck all the more special and intimate.  
  
Dean was on the phone, talking in a hushed tone to Bobby. When he saw her, he gave her a smile and turned away. It was odd for him to hide a simple conversation from her. She'd seen it all and done it all when it came to the supernatural, but she tried not to let her rub it the wrong way. It had been almost two years since she last fought a vampire or salted and burned a ghost. And a year in this life was more than enough time to change a person. Even a person as stone-cold set in their ways as Dean.  
  
Doing her best not to worry, Jazzy sat on the edge of the bed, setting her bag down beside her. She pulled out her Shea butter, peaking over her shoulder every so often as Dean finished his phone call. As soon as he hung up and sunk into the cushioned seat, she looked away from him and focused on moisturizing her skin.   
  
"Everything alright?" she asked. Butter melted in her palms under the heat of friction. She smoothed it over her legs, careful not to miss a single spot of skin.  
  
Behind her, Dean groaned and dropped his phone on the table with a thud. "Yeah."  
  
Stress laced through his voice when he spoke, cutting worry lines in Jazzy's forehead. She knew him, and she knew what the subtle shift in his voice meant, but not knowing why bothered her more than it should.   
  
She wasn't Dean's anymore. Being privy to what bothered him, what made his heartache, wasn't something she was entitled to anymore. Once she left that townhouse in Colorado and, during their drive to the motel, she made it abundantly clear that she didn't want to be a part of Dean's life anymore.  
  
It was a lie. A lie that she hoped became truth if she repeated it loud enough.   
  
"You sure? 'Cause it doesn't sound like everything's okay." Jazzy lowered her robe, exposing the skin on her shoulders and arms and chest to the unforgiving bite of the air.   
  
She dipped her hand back into her tub of butter and melted it in her hands. She moved slowly massaging her hands into her skin, soothing the ache caused by the frigid air.  
  
Cushions rustled as Dean shifted in his seat. "It's just...it's Sam. He's not doing that great."  
  
"How so?"  
  
He sighed. "I don't know, exactly. He just gets memories from when he didn't have a soul. I think it's fucking with him."  
  
"Hmm."   
  
Specks of glitter shined on her arms. It was something special she added to her butter to make her feel every bit of the magic she put into it. Self-love spells and floral baths were two of the things that got her through the last year. Days where she wanted nothing more than to give up and end her own life were common, and to keep herself alive, she learned to rely on the magic that flowed through her veins. It was her strength and her calling.  
  
She slipped out of the robe and let it fall to the mattress beneath her. She felt comfortable around Dean and wouldn't have bothered with silly acts of modesty, but she wasn't sure how he felt about being so close to her again. It never bothered him before, but their relationship was different before.  
  
Dean released a quiet gasp that earned Jazzy's attention. She turned around, meeting his slackened jaw and wide eyes with wonder. "Is something wrong, De?"  
  
Nervous energy leaped off of his skin as he shifted again in his seat. He pulled at the tight fabric of his jeans and cleared his throat before he gave an answer. "Are you doing this on purpose?"   
  
Husky tones carried in his voice, warming her cheeks. "Doing what?"  
  
She wasn't entirely innocent. Teasing him wasn't initially her intent, but seeing the way he clammed up ignited a fever in her. It had been so long since she'd been with anyone in the way she was with Dean. Caring for her cousins and getting her own life back on track left little time to date. People asked her out all the time, but she never accepted. She was never really interested in anyone that wasn't Dean.  
  
Dean scratched at his head and lowered his gaze. "Nothing. Never mind."  
  
Jazzy twisted her body so she could see more of Dean. She smiled, running her hands through her braids until they gathered on her opposite shoulder. "You sure you okay? I mean, look at you. You're all red in the cheeks and you look uncomfort--"  
  
She stopped mid-word, catching herself. She made note of the way Dean's hands fell between his outreached legs and the way his shoulders slumped forward. "I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?"   
  
It was a question she already knew the answer to but decided to ask it anyway.   
  
Dean turned his head toward the door, scratching at the nape of his neck. "No, you're fine, Squeaks."  
  
It was the first time since he walked back into her life only a few days ago that he called by her old nickname. Bobby named her Jynx when she fumbled with spells and nicked herself when learning how to fight with knives. Dean named her Squeaks because of the way her voice squeaked when she was pissed. She used to hate it, believed it to be his way of undermining her feelings, but she realized quickly it was more than that.  
  
He was the only one allowed to call her Squeaks. His orders. She liked his orders.  
  
"You, uh, want some help with your back?" he asked.   
  
Jazzy tilted her head. "You don't mind?"  
  
"No, not at all." Beaming, Dean stood up from the chair and moved with boldness as he joined her on the bed. "If you want, I could give you one of my Shea butter massages like the old days."  
  
Jazzy narrowed her gaze, suspicious of Dean's intentions. "You aren't trying to just get me all the way naked, are you?"  
  
He laughed nervously, showing off a lopsided grin. "Maybe."  
  
Jazzy thought it over, sucking her teeth as she decided. As much as she wanted to deny it, she wanted him. She wanted to feel the rough callouses of his palms scrape across her skin, wanted to feel those voluptuous lips pressed against hers, and she wanted to hear that raspy grunt he made every time he came.   
  
She stood up, letting the robe drop to the floor and smiled. "Fine," she said, "but don't go getting any crazy ideas. This is purely platonic." It was a warning more for herself than for him.  
  
He nodded and lowered his hand into the tub of butter. Before his fingers touched the glittering mixture, Jazzy wrapped her hands around his wrist to stop him. "Nope. Gotta take off your clothes first. Don't want the oils to stain them."  
  
He let out a soft chuckle and stepped back off the bed. Jazzy eyed him, mesmerized by the way his shoulders rolled backward as he shimmied out of his flannel. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as he slipped his t-shirt over his head, chucking it to the floor.   
  
She brought her hand to her mouth, hiding the lustful smirk curling her lip. Dean kept his eyes locked onto hers as he unbuckled his jeans and let them fall to the floor, leaving his freckled, gypsum skin exposed. His only barrier was the black boxer briefs clinging to his hips.  
  
"This good?" he asked, spreading out his arms so she could get a better look at him.  
  
She nodded. Following his lead, she unhooked the back of her bra but kept it up with her arms as she laid onto her stomach on the bed. She laid her head down on her folded arms and closed her eyes. Her body ached for him, nearly overwhelming her senses.  
  
Warm hands descended on her back and it made her shiver. His fingers pressed into her muscles, adding the right amount of pressure as he worked the body butter into her skin. Jazzy released a quiet moan as pleasure sparked through her body. It took every bit of self-control not to rock her hips as he rubbed her skin.   
  
Needing a distraction from the sensual strokes of Dean's fingers, Jazzy asked, "Hey, De?"   
  
"Mmhmm?"  
  
Jazzy flinched as Dean's fingers worked out a knot in her lower back. "You haven't mentioned Cas once since you've been with me."  
  
His hands paused just over the waistband of her panties at the mention of Dean's angelic best friend. Jazzy harbored a bit of hostility toward Cas. On the night she ended up in the hospital, she called out to Cas for his help and he never showed. Thinking about Cas and her anger toward him was so much easier than focusing on the way Dean's thighs pressed into hers.   
  
After gathering himself for a moment, he returned to unknotting the tension in Jazzy's muscles. "Don't wanna talk about Cas. Not when I've got you in my hands."  
  
Ignoring the lust in his voice, she asked, "Is he okay? Alive, I mean?"  
  
"He's alive. He's, uh..." His voice trailed off, forcing silence on the room. He slipped his hands under the thin fabric of her panties, gripping her ass cheeks with both of his hands.   
  
Jazzy's clit throbbed between her legs from Dean's aggressive squeezes. Creating friction, she clenched her legs together and silently hoped Dean didn't notice her squirming.   
  
"De..." she whined. Her body was yearning to be engulfed by him, but she made a promise to herself to not let it get that far. All the work she'd done to separate herself from him and from hunting would be undone if she didn't get it together. But there was no denying the impact he had on her.   
  
Seemingly sensing the burn of her skin, he leaned forward, pressing his palms into her hips and his lips to her spine. "Yeah, Squeaks?"   
  
He took his time gifting each vertebra with a kiss of its own, shocking Jazzy's skin like an electric current. "Th-this isn't...it's platonic," she stuttered. Her stomach twisted with deep desire as he made his way down her spine.   
  
Dean breathed out a soft chuckle and pressed his chest into her back. "I can have sex with just about anybody."  
  
Jazzy's face scrunched up with confusion. "Okay..."  
  
"No, listen." His fingers left her body and when they came back down on her sides, they were wet with butter. "I can have sex with just about anybody, and it'll just be an orgasm for me. But with you..."  
  
She sighed as he continued to massage her body. His skin brushing against her added a different level of desire. Part of her wanted him to back off, but a much larger part wanted him to fuck her raw until she forgot her own name.   
  
"Did I tell you how good you look with your braids?" he asked.   
  
Her answer came quickly. "No."  
  
His voice dropped low. "You look radiant, Jazz. Seeing the way your skin glistens with oils...my god." His nails raked down her back, earning an aroused hiss from her. "I'm beginning to think there could never be anything platonic between us."  
  
"De..." Saying his name was the only plea she could make. If she said anything more there was no doubt that she would be singing to him with the ways he was making her feel.   
  
But Dean knew that carnal purr. He knew how to read her body. He knew how to make her feel desperate for his touch. And it didn't take magic for her to know he wanted her too.   
  
She twisted her body around so that she faced him. Lust-blown, darkened eyes gazed back at her, making a greedy lump form in her throat. She pressed her arm over her chest to keep her bra in place and scooted back on the bed. "De, we can't," she whispered.  
  
He was on his knees, cock hard against his boxers. "Jazzy, I lo--"  
  
"Dammit, Dean. Don't say it. Please don't say it."  
  
He snapped his mouth shut at her insistence, mossy green eyes locked in a transfixing stare. He sucked in an exasperated breath. His tightened jaw and flared nostrils alerted her to the annoyance he felt at her refusal to accept the truth that lie between them.  
  
Frustration pursed his lips into a pout, only adding to the delicious vision of him kneeling before her. Jazzy pulled her knees up to her chest to put more distance between her and Dean. Flares of desire flickered on her skin, and she wasn't sure if she had the discipline to keep it in check if he touched her again.  
  
"Maybe this was a mistake," she murmured.   
  
Divine adoration shined in his eyes, smoothing the harsh lines on his face. It was as if he reassessed the situation and shifted his tactics. He crawled forward, erasing the distance Jazzy just created between the two. "If this is a mistake, then I want to make it over and over again."   
  
He raised his hand to touch her cheek, but she caught him, gripping his wrist in her fist. She kept her eyes locked on him, noticing the tight clench of his jaw as he stared back at her. Freckles danced across his chiseled cheeks, showing the prominence of his sharp cheekbones. A translucent scar settled over his forehead and somehow he still looked absolutely perfect.  
  
She craved him. Piercing desire consumed her, and she decided to give in to the beauty of his eyes. Maintaining strong eye contact, Jazzy drew Dean's hand to her mouth. She wrapped her lips around his thumb, tasting the nutty undertones and the sweet vanilla on her tongue.   
  
Dean's breath hitched as she moved her tongue along his fingers. He bit into his bottom lip and moved closer to her. Once each of his fingers had been tasted, she guided his hand down under her panties, letting it land on her already wet pussy.   
  
Both of them moaned, mirroring slackened jaws and heavy eyelids. Dean worked circles into her clit with his thumb. As his fingers glistened from her slick, his dick got harder. She loved to watch him grow and became enthralled with knowing it was because of her.   
  
Dean leaned forward, pressing his forehead into hers. His breath tickled the hairs on her top lip and filled her mouth with the aftertaste of coffee and cheese-covered beef. The tinge of chocolate on his breath from dessert filled her with a hunger only he could satiate.  
  
"Are you sure about this?" he asked.  
  
She was surprised to hear the hesitation in his voice. From the moment Dean arrived at her door a few days ago, it was clear to anyone with eyes and ears that he wanted this. The way he moved around her like the moon revolving around the earth displayed the love he still felt for her.   
  
And yet, he still took the time to ask, to make sure she was comfortable. All her speeches about maintaining a friendship, a familial respect, were met with unease on Dean's part. Jazzy meant it that she didn't want to get lost in him again, but the twinkle in his eyes and the crooked curve of his nose was intoxicating.  
  
Sliding her fingers through his hair, she answered him. "If you don't shut up and kiss me..."  
  
Soft lips pressed into hers, warm and smooth, taking her breath away. Her back arched as she pulled her body flush with his, releasing her bra to the mattress beneath them. Every inch of her skin itched to meld with his. Their bodies fit together in a way that seemed impossible. It was as if they were made to hold each other for all of eternity.  
  
Dean's fingers slid along her entrance. He teased her, massaging her folds with his fingers. He breathed a laugh into her lungs as she whimpered from the sensuous sensation. "You're adorable, you know that?" he asked.  
  
"W-what are you t-talking about?" She was more focused on the moisture continuing to grow between her legs than the words spilling from his mouth, but it would be rude to ignore him.  
  
He shoved his fingers into her making her buck her hips. "You tried so hard to make me believe you didn't want this."  
  
"So?"  
  
"It's silly, Jazzy." He swallowed hard. "I'll always want you like this. And I know you want me."  
  
Jazzy pulled his mouth back down to hers, kissing him with passion. She rode his fingers, giddy when they hit the roof of her cunt at just the right angle. Sweat beaded on her chest as her pulse quickened. Being so close to him, tasting his lips, it made her desire to feel him--all of him--so much stronger than she could have anticipated.  
  
"I want you. I want all of you." She threw her head back, guiding his lips to her neck. He sucked her skin into his mouth, creating bruises as he made his way down her neck to her chest. The pain from the bruises only amplified the desire smoldering inside of her.   
  
One of his hands pressed into her back, keeping her body against his while the other delved deep into her pussy. Her sweet nectar soaked his fingers as they sped up. Dean's eyes were almost black as he watched her climb closer and closer to orgasm. Seeing her face explode with ecstasy had always been foreplay. He prioritized her pleasure. He knew how to make her feel special and wanted, and it made her absolutely weak for him.  
  
She shuddered, skin tingling with heat, as she reached the peak of her orgasm. She reached for his neck, using his body to anchor her as the wave crashed over her, cresting in several moments of pure joy. He kept fingering her through it, smiling as he reveled in witnessing her come completely undone.  
  
As her body recouped, she planted kisses on his shoulder and slid her hands down his chest to his abs and stopped at the waistband of his boxers. He flinched from her touch as her fingers brushed his skin. His dick popped out as she peeled his boxers back. Her mouth watered at the sight of his hard cock. Greedily, she imagined the salty taste of his precum on her tongue and feeling the head of his dick against her throat.  
  
She gripped him, pumping her hands up and down his shaft. He felt so full in her hands, thick and hard. She missed this. She missed him.  
  
"Your turn," she whispered. She expected him to lean back, watch her with pride as she took him into her mouth, but he didn't.   
  
Instead, he cradled the back of her head down to rest on the pillow. His eyes were focused on her as he pulled her panties down her legs and chucked them back over his shoulder. "Let me treat you like you deserve," he begged. "Let me just enjoy you."  
  
Dean's raspy voice sounded tender. She realized that his hunger wasn't going to get in the way of his savoring every moment he had with her. There was no telling when they'd ever have this again. All they were promised was this moment, and she wanted to enjoy it.  
  
Dean's joints cracked as he pulled his boxers all the way off. Jazzy swallowed hard as he tapped the tip of his cock on her clit. He slid it down her folds, teasing her. She gripped the sheets at her side as he slid his cock into her. A gasp ripped through her throat as he took his time filling her up.   
  
"Fuck," he grunted.   
  
"Do I feel good?" Her voice quivered as he sunk deeper into her.  
  
His answer came in a flurry of kisses on her mouth. Raging fires erupted through her body as he thrust into her at a steady pace. Her moans mixed in with his grunts like bamboo wind chimes slamming into metal chimes. It was a dizzying combination that sounded blissful.  
  
Syncing herself with his rhythm, she rocked her hips into his. Her body rolled with ease as she fell back into a heady cadence that resembled their old relationship. Spending an entire year apart, pretending that they didn't feel the heat they felt, and it was almost like they never lived without each other.   
  
Jazzy felt at home in his arms. Arms and legs tangled with sweat and cum was her safety net. Her nails dug into his back, earning a deep, guttural growl as he picked up the pace. He pounded into her with recklessness that only edged her closer to release. The tension in his shoulders melted away as he allowed himself to give into his lust completely.   
  
Together, they could be nothing and everything at the same time. They could be vulnerable and strong, free and unstoppable. When they were together, they transcended pain and tribulation. They got lost in each other to the point that they could recognize themselves more in the other than in themselves.   
  
Jazzy sat up, allowing Dean to rock backward on his heels so that she was on his lap. She raked her hands through his hair as she bounced on top of him. Her voluptuous breasts swayed with each lift and roll of her hips. The plump mounds on her chest gained Dean's attention. His thrusts became sloppy as he captured her breasts in his hands. It was as if he became overwhelmed by her phenomenal beauty.   
  
His hands slid up to wrap around her neck. The pressure was exhilarating, making her feel dizzy. "So...close," she mumbled.   
  
Hearing that was all he needed to hear from her. He snapped his hips into her, squeezing her throat to restrict her air flow. Light headed, her head rolled back and her eyes closed. Her body buzzed with magic and static as she reached the apex of euphoria.   
  
Primal cries slipped from her lips, filling their motel room with the evidence of their passion. Her body fell limp in Dean's arms as wave of rapture crested and drowned her. He jabbed her clenching pussy until he reached his own orgasm. He spilled into her, filling her with his seed. He clung to her, burying his face in her braids, kissing the flushed skin on her shoulder.   
  
They fell backward, her head landing on the pillow beneath her. They caught their breath, limbs tangled together as Dean dropped down beside her on the bed. He raked a hand through his hair, eyes aimed at the ceiling.  
  
"I...forgot...what...it was...like to be...with you," he breathed out. His skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that made him glow. Ethereal beauty radiated from him. It was the thing that drew her to him in the first place, but as she got to know him, laughed at his jokes, felt the sunshine in his smile, she fell hard. She fell so hard that she ended up flying, floating with the clouds in love.  
  
Feeling the weakness in her body, Jazzy rolled onto her side and flattened her palm on Dean's red-hot chest. "Honestly," she said with a bright smile on her face, "I'm offended that you would forget this. I thought it was the best part for you."  
  
Dean scoffed, showing off his teeth in a smirk. "The best part?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He wrapped an arm around her, squeezing her biceps with calloused palms. "Baby, sex was always fantastic with us, but it wasn't the best part."  
  
Jazzy shot him a questioning look, furrowing her brows and twisting the corners of her lips. "Then what was?"  
  
"It's the sound of your laugh. It's the way you mix a different scent with your Shea Butter all the time. The way I could listen to you talk for hours, and talk to you for hours too. It's your smile and that look you get in your eyes. It's like your eyes burn with the light of a thousand suns."  
  
Jazzy chewed the inside of her cheek as Dean shared compliment after compliment. It was nice to hear him say it, explain it to her, but it only made things more difficult. She wasn't supposed to end up in his arms again. She wasn't supposed to feel this way again.  
  
She shrugged, downplaying his words. "You been reading poetry, Winchester? Where'd you learn to talk like that?"  
  
Dean chuckled and pressed his lips to her forehead. "You are poetry, Jazzy. You inspire me. You've always inspired me. Who you are can't be read in a book or put into words."  
  
The "I love you" hung on his lips. Jazzy was grateful he couldn't say it, though she grew curious as to why he couldn't. Once she heard it from him, she knew she'd give up all of her plans for herself just to be with him. If he asked. She wanted to give him the world. It was why she had to leave a year ago.  
  
"For me," she whispered, "it's the sound of your voice. It's so deep and smooth, it's like you're digging roots in me every time you speak. When you say my name, it's like you're planting a seed inside of me, watching it grow when I smile at you, or when my heart flutters in my chest. You tell terrible jokes, but coming from you, they're brilliant because everything about you shines like the stardust you're made of."  
  
"Jazzy?"   
  
Fear coated his voice, encouraging panic to blossom in her chest. "Yeah?"  
  
Dean licked at his lips and pressed his chin into his chest as he looked down to meet her gaze with earnestness. "Please don't leave me again."  
  
The sorrow in his eyes struck hard into her chest like a club. Even when they were in Colorado and she told Dean she was going to leave he didn't beg her to stay. He asked for a reason for why she was leaving. He asked her to stay and then gave in without much of a fight as long as she let him take her to her uncle. Last time, he didn't fight for her.  
  
Hearing the crack in his voice as he begged for her, seeing tears sitting on the waterline of his eyes, it broke her in ways she thought no longer possible. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to abandon him again, and yet she knew she had to. If she healed Sam and stayed with him, she would never forgive herself. She would resent him in the same way that she resented Sam for destroying the fantasy they created for themselves when he came back into Dean's life.   
  
She couldn't bring herself to lie to him, but found the truth to be too painful to express. Wanting to honor her own path and drown in the love Dean was so willing to give left her in a hard place. Either way, she would lose something that meant the world to her. But the thought of losing herself in a relationship again brought on a pain she never wanted to feel again.  
  
She blew out a heavy sigh and drew circles on Dean's chest with her fingertips. "Dean, I can't do that," she said firmly. "I can't promise you that I won't leave when all is said and done. But what I can promise you is this moment right here. I can promise that right here and right now, there's no place else I'd rather be. For now, that's gonna have to be enough."  
  
He stroked her arm with patience and looked at her with a gleam of light in his eyes. "I hate that answer." Pulling her closer to his chest, enveloping her with both his arms, he sighed. "It's bullshit, but no matter how angry you make me, I can't let you go."  
  
She kissed his jaw, the prickles of his beard scratching her lips. "Then don't."


End file.
